


Anything For You

by phoenixquest



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Dom Hawke (Dragon Age), Figging, Light BDSM, M/M, Smut, Spanking, Sub Anders (Dragon Age), fluffy at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 19:25:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19818928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixquest/pseuds/phoenixquest
Summary: Hawke has noticed Anders is having trouble lately... and knows just how to get his mage back on track.





	Anything For You

**Author's Note:**

> I tagged this as "light BDSM" because I think it falls on the gentler side, but please mind the tags!

“I told you that I wouldn’t stand for you being late again,” Hawke’s voice came to Anders’ ears, sounding disappointed and slightly hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Anders said, stepping toward his lover wearing naught but the towel around his waist. He reached out to hug the rogue, and was slightly surprised when Hawke accepted. He let out a breath, relaxing slightly in the warm embrace of his lover’s arms. Hawke was a little taller than he was, and it never failed to make Anders feel fragile and cared for to be held like this. “You know I don’t mean to.”

“I do,” Hawke said, a note of pity in his voice as he pressed a kiss to Anders’ forehead before stepping away. “But _you_ know what I said would happen last time.” 

Anders’ shoulders sagged as he let his arms fall from around the larger man.

“Garrett, no,” he said. “I’m exhausted. I can’t – “

“Shh,” Hawke murmured, pressing his fingers to Anders’ lips. “You’ll do as I say, love. I didn’t want this any more than you did.”

“You can’t seriously be blaming me for this,” Anders said, a hint of anger in his tone. He didn’t want to fight with Hawke, not tonight. It had been so long, and such a long day. “You’re really telling me you’re angry with me for having to work on this? Don’t you understand – “ He was cut off by a sharp smack to his ass, courtesy of Hawke’s large hand.

“Trust me,” Hawke whispered, leaning close to Anders’ ear. He didn’t exactly like punishing his mage, and certainly not like this, but it was clear to him that this was what Anders needed. The mage would never have gotten angry at his words otherwise. He was too tense, he was too wound up, and Hawke knew exactly what needed to be done about it.

Even if Anders would fight it at first.

“You know I trust you,” Anders sighed, and Hawke could tell he did sound weary. He let the mage rest his head against his shoulder then, just holding him for another moment. He was glad that Anders had at least managed to get a proper bath in. It had been some time, he knew.

“Remove the towel and get on the bed,” Hawke said, pressing another gentle kiss to the top of Anders’ head where he wouldn’t have been able to reach if Anders hadn’t been slumping against him. “I’ll be right back.”

“Back?” Anders asked, unnerved and glancing at the door. “What do you mean?”

“Anders,” Hawke said, arching an eyebrow as his voice took on a more commanding tone. “I told you to trust me.”

“But the door – “ Anders protested, cutting off as Hawke frowned.

“You know I will not allow anyone else the sight of you in our private room,” Hawke reminded him. “Your insolence does you no favors tonight.” 

Anders swallowed; perhaps Hawke was right. He wasn’t usually so twitchy about such things, and usually trusted Hawke implicitly. He just needed Hawke to remind him of it.

“Of course, Garrett,” Anders murmured, looking down at the floor. Hawke smiled then; it was not the reverent title of “master” that so many in such situations would prefer, but it was what made them both happy, and hearing it spoken so trustingly from Anders’ lips was better than any title.

Anders removed his towel, letting it fall carelessly to the floor without a thought before climbing onto the bed on all fours, his ass facing the door just as Hawke preferred. Hawke didn’t bother mentioning the towel to Anders then; it would be another transgression to add to the list, even if he knew Anders hadn’t meant it impertinently.

Anders heard the door click shut and resisted the urge to turn and look. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Hawke – of course he did – but everything had made him so jumpy lately. The patients, the raids on the clinic, even his manifesto. Justice, thankfully, was quiet; the spirit seemed to retreat a bit whenever evenings like this happened with Hawke. Justice couldn’t understand it, but he could sense that Anders was more focused afterward, so he saw no use in protesting.

It was warm in Hawke’s room, as usual with the fireplace going, so Anders felt comfortable enough. Some part of him dimly registered his submission already, simply assuming this position upon their bed. However, Hawke took long enough that Anders had time to start feeling antsy. He wondered what Hawke was doing; the rogue had never left him like this before, and certainly not for so long. Perhaps this is meant to be his punishment for tonight? Being denied the presence of his lover when he desires the companionship so much?

“Ah, good job,” Hawke’s voice came indulgently, and Anders couldn’t help but jump. He hadn’t even heard the door open. “I do love you ready for me, Anders.”

“Ah…Garrett?” Anders said timidly. He isn’t sure he ought to make requests at the moment, but he can’t help himself.

“Hmm?” Hawke asked, and finally Anders felt the pressure of the man sitting on the bed next to him. He kept his head down, as he is supposed to. “Anders,” he frowned, putting a gentle hand on Anders’ hip. “What’s wrong? You’re trembling.”

“I…sorry,” he mumbled, reddening. He didn’t mean to. “I just…”

“Come on, love,” Hawke encouraged, rubbing his hand over Anders’ bare skin soothingly. “Talk to me.”

“I didn’t like being left,” Anders muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. “Just…please…don’t do that again?” He nearly sounded like he was whining, and the flush was spreading over the rest of his body now.

“Ah,” Hawke said understandingly, reaching up to caress Anders’ loose hair. “Of course, sweetheart. I apologize. Is there something wrong tonight, or is this a fear I should know about?”

“I…simply…ugh,” Anders scoffed at himself, his shoulders hunching though he managed to stay on all fours.

“Hey,” Hawke said, and set something on the floor before abruptly pulling a surprised, naked mage into his lap. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, love,” he assured the mage, looking into his eyes again. “Just tell me.”

“I’ve just missed you,” Anders admitted, turning redder still. “I don’t mean to sound childish, but…”

“You need me,” Hawke finished for him, feeling touched and a bit guilty he hadn’t done this earlier. “Don’t worry, Anders. I won’t be leaving you again, I promise. I will take care of you, understand?” Anders nodded, and Hawke pressed a gentle kiss to the mage’s lips. “Are you okay now?”

“Yes,” Anders said, still feeling childish but grateful for Hawke’s reassurance.

“Good,” Hawke smiled, brushing a lock of hair from Anders’ face. He settled Anders back into the four-legged pose he’d been in, spreading his legs a bit wider than Anders had them. “Now. I’m going to try something new tonight,” he explained, reaching over to pick up whatever he’d put on the floor before. “Should be interesting. You remember your word?”

“Apostate,” Anders replied promptly, and Hawke grinned again.

“Very good,” he praised. Already the mage was becoming compliant and submissive again.

Anders listened; it sounded as though Hawke was unwrapping something. Had he perhaps purchased a new paddle? _Ah_ , he thought as Hawke settled behind him, rubbing one large hand over the mage’s buttocks. _Yes_.

“Relax yourself,” Hawke murmured, bringing his large fingers closer to Anders’ hole. Anders whimpered when a finger brushed over it. Relax himself? How was he supposed to relax with _this_ kind of attention?

Hawke spread his cheeks apart then, baring him utterly, and Anders tensed further. Surely Hawke wasn’t going to whip him _there_ ; had his infraction truly been so grievous? He trusted the man, but he wasn’t sure he could handle something like that.

“G-Garrett?” Anders said shakily, trembling again. 

“Shh,” Hawke soothed gently, keeping the cheeks spread but brushing a finger over the puckered entrance every few seconds. “Relax, Anders. Trust me.” Anders was trying, he really was, but Hawke never _played_ with him like this, not when he was being punished. He wasn’t sure what to expect, and it was making it very hard to relax. “Anders,” Hawke barked firmly, and the next second he felt a sharp, burning slap on his ass.

He whimpered.

“You need to relax,” Hawke said, voice still firm though quieter. “This is never going to work if you don’t. I need to be able to get inside you.” 

_Inside?_ But that didn’t make any sense. He was being punished, wasn’t he? Taking a shuddering breath, he reminded himself that he trusted Hawke, more than anything, and if Hawke wanted him to relax, that’s what he was going to do.

He blew out the breath, forcing his muscles to relax even as Hawke brushed a finger over his entrance again. He let himself enjoy it.

“That’s more like it,” Hawke said approvingly. The next moment, Anders was surprised into tightening again by something very cold pressed against his hole. “It’ll warm up,” Hawke murmured encouragingly, a smirk to his voice. 

Anders forced himself to relax again; clearly, whatever this cold thing was was meant to go inside him, though he was utterly confused by the lack of proper preparation. 

“Ahh!” Anders cried as the coolness slid into him. Certainly not Hawke’s finger, though it did feel similarly shaped. He couldn’t help wiggling a little.

“Shh, my little mage,” Hawke said, stroking Anders’ cheeks soothingly as the cold thing entered him further. It wasn’t painful, at least; that was something. Whatever the thing was seemed to have been lubricated. Finally, the thing was seated inside him…angled just so that it touched the spot that drove him crazy, and settled by itself without Hawke holding it. The man’s hands were splayed on Anders’ cheeks instead, spreading him open.

“G-Garrett,” Anders managed, confused and chilled. “Wh-what…?”

“Ginger root,” Hawke explained softly, continuing to hold Anders spread wide.

“But…it feels…good,” Anders moaned, trying to wriggle against Hawke’s touch, craving anything. Hawke chuckled.

“It’ll change,” he assured the mage. “Give it a moment.” He had tried it on himself the previous day; he wasn’t willing to do something like this to his precious mage without knowing how bad it really was, whatever Isabela’s stories said.

“Garrett,” Anders whimpered pitifully, his shoulders sagging and his head drooping. Hawke could already see his length hardening. Seeing his mage like this, so utterly at his mercy, never failed to humble him. He only hoped he could live up to what Anders needed.

“You left your towel on the floor,” Hawke said casually as he waited for the burning to kick in. “You know better than that, love.”

“I – oh,” Anders said, sounding bewildered. “Sorry, Garrett. I wasn’t thinking – ah!” he cried out as Hawke brought a hand down hard to his ass, leaving a red imprint.

“I don’t want your apologies,” Hawke told him. “I don’t want it to happen again. Is that clear?” Another smack, and Anders moaned again.

“Yes…Maker, Garrett - ahh,” he groaned, though Hawke hadn’t touched him again.

“How does it feel?” Hawke asked, spreading Anders’ cheeks even wider for a better view.

“It…oh, it burns,” he said, sounding surprised. “It’s burning.”

“Good,” Hawke said, satisfied. “Can you feel it, Anders? Can you feel it burning inside of you? Reminding you of why you’re being punished?”

“Ah...yes,” Anders said, wriggling uncomfortably now. This was certainly different. He’d never experienced anything like this before; somehow, at the same time it was becoming irritating inside him, it was making him ridiculously hard.

“And now?” Hawke asked, abruptly squeezing Anders’ cheeks together again over the ginger, pressing on it. Anders cried out.

“Oh! I…Maker,” he groaned. It was becoming downright painful, and the burning was impossible to escape. It flooded through his insides, making every nerve tingle. Hawke let his cheeks go then, letting them settle.

“I want you to do something for me,” Hawke said quietly then, removing his hands from Anders entirely.

“Y-yes,” Anders breathed. “Anything.” Hawke smiled.

“I want you to clench your muscles, as hard as you can, around that ginger root,” Hawke explained. “And I want you to tell me what happens.”

“I – what?” Anders asked, surprised enough he turned to look at Hawke. Hawke grabbed his head and pushed it back down where it belonged.

“You heard me,” Hawke said firmly. It wouldn’t be long, he knew, before the mage was pliant and accommodating in his hands again.

“Yes! Sorry, I’m sorry,” Anders said, unable to believe he’d forgotten himself like that. He concentrated, though the burning was making it difficult. Clenching down hard on his muscles, he felt the ginger root move minutely inside of him, and then all of a sudden – “AHH!” He rapidly unclenched.

“Go on,” Hawke said, his voice rough, and Anders knew he was enjoying himself now, though the mage himself felt tears stinging his eyes from the burning inside of him. It had hurt so much worse when he clenched his muscles.

“Burns,” Anders choked out. “Burns…worse. Maker.”

“That’s right,” Hawke said delicately. “Now, Anders. I’m going to spank you, as your punishment. But any time you clench, to make it less harsh – that’s what is going to happen. Understood?” Anders realized his dilemma then. Clench his muscles to keep the spanking less harsh and face the burning, or relax and let the spanking hurt more?

Hawke was an evil man.

“I…I understand,” Anders managed. And by the Maker, was he hard.

“Very good,” Hawke said. “Now, your lateness would get you twenty, but you were also insolent with me, and left your towel on my floor. Thirty strikes, and you will count them.”

“Yes, Garrett,” Anders said, and Hawke could hear the tears in his voice. He smiled. This was going to work faster than usual, perhaps. Anders tried to brace himself, but the first smack from Hawke was still unexpected and he still cried out. “One,” he breathed raggedly. He was trying very hard not to clench around the ginger; the burning was still agonizing even without it.

“Keep your ass in the air, Anders,” Hawke said, readjusting the mage. Anders whimpered as it moved the plug inside him. He hadn’t realized he’d started to move.

“Two,” Anders choked as the hit came. “Three, four, five, ahhh!” he cried out as he couldn’t help clenching his muscles at the sudden onslaught. “Garrett, Garrett, please…”

“No,” Hawke said simply. “You are being punished, Anders. The punishment does not change to suit the punished.” He smacked the mage twice more rapidly, and Anders still managed to count. Hawke made a bet with himself that he would start forgetting by fifteen.

“Twenty-two,” Anders sobbed later, surprising Hawke; he was still managing, even through his tears. Something inside Hawke ached for the mage, almost wishing he could simply stop; but no, without the use of Anders’ word, he had to continue, he had to give the mage what he needed. “Twenty-three. Garrett,” he begged. “I can’t…I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” Hawke told him, his voice patient. He’d never reduced Anders so quickly before; it had been less than ten minutes. The ginger wouldn’t lose potency until twenty were up, and he didn’t intend to remove it until then.

“Nooo,” Anders moaned, his face falling onto his arms on the bed. He knew he was a teary, snotty mess; it stung, everything stung, and with the burning inside him, he felt as though he had simply been set on fire. Still, he wouldn’t use his word; he couldn’t. He knew he needed this. So he endured. He felt another smack, but his brain was so fogged he forgot to count it.

“Anders,” Hawke said warningly, giving the mage two sharp slaps to get his attention back.

“Sor-sorry,” Anders choked. “Twenty…twenty-four.” Oh, Maker, he wished the burning would stop. It made it all so much worse.

“Good,” Hawke said, his voice softer. He gave Anders a small reprieve then, rubbing his hands over the mage’s overly-reddened cheeks. It was but a small kindness, Anders knew; once he started up again, it would hurt all the worse for it.

But the gentle touch soothed his soul, if not his skin. He was feeling lighter already, feeling owned, feeling completed. The manifesto, the clinic, the mages – none of it mattered just then, not with Hawke. Hawke was all that mattered. And that’s just how he liked it.

“Six more,” Hawke spoke up. “Only six more, love.”

“Yes,” Anders sniffled. Yes, he could do that. “Ohh…twenty-five,” he forced out, with the next slap. “Twenty-six. Twenty-seven.” He sobbed brokenly, sure that he couldn’t take any more. There was no way, he was reduced to nothing, nothing but burning and tears. He couldn’t, he couldn’t even speak when Hawke smacked him again, let alone remember to count.

“Anders,” Hawke urged. “Come on, sweetheart. Three more.” Anders merely sobbed. “I can’t continue until you count, love,” Hawke said, swallowing hard against the feeling of pity.

“Twenty…twenty…” Anders hiccupped, causing his ass to clench around the ginger root again, and he groaned pitifully. “Garrett, I can’t,” he cried. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Hawke encouraged, wondering if he was going to hear the word. “That was twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-eight,” Anders repeated wetly, brokenly. Twenty-eight. He’d endured twenty-eight, even with the ginger. He could do two more. Of course he could. He had his Hawke. “Twenty-nine,” he wept. “Thirty,” he finished with a broken sort of relief.

“Oh, Anders, my love,” Hawke said feelingly. “Very good. Very, very good. I knew you could do it.”

“Garrett,” Anders sobbed. “Garrett.”

“Shh,” Hawke said, a soothing hand now running along Anders’ calf. “Almost finished.”

“Al-almost?” Anders asked, confused. Had he misunderstood?

“The ginger,” Hawke said apologetically. “It will go away after twenty minutes. You only have about eight left.” Anders let out a wail of despair.

“Garrett, I can’t, I can’t,” Anders sobbed, and started to slump to the side, unable to support himself; Hawke caught him, easing him down gently. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, sweetheart,” Hawke assured him. “I know you can, my love. You’re doing so well, Anders. So very well, I’m so proud of you.” And he truly was; the mage had broken far more quickly than usual, and yet still no hint of ‘apostate’ was uttered.

“Garrett,” Anders said pitifully, brokenly. “I’m so sorry, Garrett.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I know,” Hawke assured him, and then he gathered the mage into his arms, turned him over onto his back and let Anders rest against his chest. “I know you are.” He knew this was necessary, but it sometimes still hurt him, especially when it got as bad as this. “You’re all right now,” he assured the mage, wrapping his arms around Anders’ chest and holding him tightly while the mage continued to sob. “I’ve got you.” He kissed the mage’s temple.

“Garrett,” Anders said desperately, clinging to Hawke’s arms. He knew the mage could say little else just then.

“Is this better?” Hawke asked, rubbing Anders’ arms soothingly.

“Y-yes,” Anders managed. He was even feeling himself calming, but by the Maker, that burning! “Th-thank you, Garrett.”

“Of course, my love,” Hawke answered, kissing Anders’ ear. “Whatever you need.”

“How – how much longer?” Anders asked, a bit dazed. “It…it burns.”

“I know,” Hawke said sympathetically, brushing Anders’ hair from his sweaty face. “Five more minutes.”

“I…I can do that,” Anders decided aloud. “I can…do that.”

“Of course you can,” Hawke agreed. “Give me your hands,” he added, and threaded his own fingers through the mage’s. “There’s just a bit more I require of you.” He almost hated to say it; he was sure he’d put his mage through enough, but he had to be thorough. Anders had to be completely broken to feel better.

“Maker,” Anders whimpered, burying his face in Hawke’s chest. “Don’t…don’t make me.”

“You have to,” Hawke said softly, kissing his temple again. “Do this for me, love.” Anders closed his eyes in imagined pain.

“What is it?” he finally asked, sounding scared.

“I want you to clench your muscles again – “ Anders groaned – “for a count of five. I’ll tell you when, and we’ll count together.”

“Noo,” Anders whimpered. “Please, no.” 

Hawke felt his heart clench, but he couldn’t give in. Not without the word; he knew his mage, and knew what he could take.

“Come on, love,” Hawke encouraged. “I’ve got you. Squeeze my hands. Ready?”

“Nooo,” Anders moaned again, but Hawke knew it didn’t matter.

“Go,” Hawke said, and he felt Anders’ body tense even as the mage cried out.

“One, two, three, four, five,” Hawke counted; Anders kept up shakily. “Relax,” he added. Anders panted in his arms, relaxing his grip on Hawke’s hands.

“Garrett,” Anders sobbed. “Maker…”

“Again,” Hawke said relentlessly. “When I say.”

“Please, make it stop,” Anders begged. “Please…”

“Not yet,” Hawke said patiently. “Only three minutes to go, Anders, my love. You’re doing beautifully. It will fade soon. Alright. Clench for me.” Anders tensed, and they counted together even through Anders’ cries of pain.

Hawke was relentless; he hardly gave Anders any time to recover before requiring it of him again. He couldn’t help but notice the mage was still quite hard and eager, judging by his cock. This was how he knew he was doing things properly. Anders left off counting by three that time, unable to continue.

“Very good,” Hawke said, taking pity on the sobbing mage in his arms. He cuddled him close, holding him tightly. “So very, very good, my sweet mage. I love you, you know that? I love you so much.”

“How…long,” Anders sobbed.

“Should only be another minute or two until it fades away,” Hawke assured him. “It fades quickly, once it starts.”

“Do I…have to…do that…again?” Anders said, hiccupping between words and wincing when he did.

“No, my love, now you just have to wait for it to stop,” Hawke said reassuringly, gently rubbing the mage’s arms, stroking his hair, kissing his brow. “You did so well, my beautiful, sweet Anders. I’m so proud.” Anders simply continued to tremble, though his crying calmed quite a bit.

“Thank you,” Anders finally breathed quietly. “Thank you, Garrett. Maker.” Hawke smiled and kissed his nose.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Y-yes,” Anders said shakily. And it was true, he did; despite the pain in his backside, and the burning inside him that was lessening, everything felt so much better.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Hawke murmured, squeezing Anders gently again. “I’m going to remove it now,” he added, pulling himself out from behind the mage and gently laying him down. “Lay back and relax, all right?”

“Yeah,” Anders murmured, calming down. 

Hawke stared at him lovingly for just a moment; he could hardly believe the strength of spirit of his mage. It was astonishingly beautiful.

He settled between Anders’ spread legs, reaching gently for the ginger root and sliding it from the mage’s body. Anders winced a few times, but didn’t complain, and Hawke smiled at him when it was out. He tossed the root into the fire; it would give them a pleasant scent while it burned, and at any rate, they certainly didn’t need anyone else coming across it. Least of all the dog.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Hawke murmured softly, placing his hands on Anders’ thighs and gazing up at the tired-looking mage.

“I – yes,” Anders admitted. It had been difficult, and even painful, but somehow that had added to his desire; and truthfully Hawke’s incredible patience with him made it so much _better_.

“Still tired?” he asked, referring to Anders’ earlier complaint.

“Maker, yes,” Anders said, barely able to keep his wet eyes open.

“But not, I’ll wager, _too_ tired?” Hawke smirked. Anders managed a tired, watery chuckle.

“Probably not,” he agreed. Hawke leaned up over the mage then, bracing his elbows on either side of him and using his non-gingered fingers to wipe away Anders’ tears.

“You are beautiful when you’re mine,” Hawke murmured before kissing the mage deeply.

“I’m always yours,” Anders murmured in reply when Hawke pulled away.

“And you’re always beautiful,” Hawke grinned. Anders snorted half-heartedly. “I love you, Anders.”

“I love you, too, Garrett,” Anders agreed, stretching his neck up to kiss Hawke again. Hawke let him, then pulled away with a smile.

“Then lay there, relax, and let me have my fun,” Hawke implored him. Anders smiled, and couldn’t really protest as Hawke slid back down the mage’s toned body. “Beautiful,” he murmured once more before taking the throbbing length of the mage into his mouth.

“Ohhh,” Anders moaned, but this time it was most definitely a moan of pleasure and relief. “Oh, Maker, Garrett, _yes_ ,” he mumbled, too worn to cry out, but enjoying it all the same. Hawke’s warm, wet mouth wrapped around him was exactly the comfort he needed in every single way. Somehow, the slight burn left from the ginger root was only making him feel more aroused.

Hawke didn’t rein in his enthusiasm; spanking his lover always got him worked up, and tonight was no exception, though he did find it harder when Anders was so clearly upset. He knew it was partly due to the ginger and partly the fact that it had been so long since they’d done this, but even so, it was difficult to endure. Now, though – giving his mage pleasure – he wanted nothing more than this.

Hawke looked up at Anders through his eyelashes, watching the man’s fists clench in the blankets next to him, watching him toss his head side to side with the pure deliciousness of it all. He groaned at the blissful look on the mage’s face; that’s what he wanted to see, always.

“Garrett,” Anders said, his tone begging but in a very different way. This was beautiful, desire, exquisite longing. Hawke impatiently reached for one of Anders’ clenching hands and dragged it to his head, encouraging the mage to take control. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” Anders groaned when he realized what Hawke wanted. He could hardly control himself, and immediately set to holding Hawke’s head still as he thrust viciously up into the man’s mouth, into his throat.

Hawke’s fingernails were leaving little crescent moons all over Anders’ thighs in his enthusiasm, just trying to be what he knew Anders needed. He was moaning nearly as much as the mage now, wanting nothing more than Anders’ release.

“Maker, Garrett, I – ahhh!” he cried out when Hawke swallowed, constricting his throat muscles around the tip of Anders’ length. “Garrett! I’m going to come – oh – soon – ahhh!”

Encouragingly, Hawke sped up his motions, Anders too weak and distracted to continue thrusting and relying on the bobbing of Hawke’s head to finish. Finally, his hips bucked up into Hawke’s mouth involuntarily, his fingers clenching in Hawke’s hair as he spilled himself down the rogue’s throat. Hawke was careful to swallow every drop, not leaving even a little mess to clean up. Once Anders lay limply against the bed, utterly unable to move, Hawke sat up, a grin on his face as he moved to lay next to his mage.

“Good?” he asked. Anders could only answer with a contented groan and a weak, tired smile as he heaved himself onto Hawke’s chest, clutching at the rogue. “Good,” Hawke nodded, squeezing the mage tightly. “Get some rest, love. I’ve got you.”

“I know,” Anders murmured, barely coherent. “Love you. Love you always.” Hawke fell asleep with a mage on his chest and a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> I know that figging is different for everyone who tries it; some people are barely affected, while others react more like Anders here. I based his reaction on my own, so if it seems over-the-top, sorry. I'm a wimp. Thanks for reading, I love kudos and comments! Also, let me know if there are any other tags needed; I think I got everything but just in case.


End file.
